


7

by Destructyon



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Human, Always, Awkwardness, Child Death, Even more awkwardness, Eventual Smut, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Gavin won't turn out to be a pedophile I promise, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Nines and Gavin belong together, Nines is a child, Past Relationship(s), RK900‘s name is Nines, Suicidal Thoughts, Super insecure Hank, Whose son could he possibly be, insecure hank, like a lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-07-05 20:32:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15871233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destructyon/pseuds/Destructyon
Summary: Hank has been marked by the terrible events in his life. He broke up with his angel of a boyfriend Connor, being too self-concious about their age difference. Losing his 6 year old son Cole in an accident a few years later, and soon after being left by his wife, he gives up on life.Just as he thought things couldn‘t get any worse, Connor shows up back in his life. And he is not alone.





	1. True Love Dies Hard

**Author's Note:**

> Hello you lovely beans \\(^o^)/
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading! I'll try updating this at an acceptable rate! (emphasis on try ^^')

_What the fuck._

 

I‘m not in the mood to deal with this.

„Jeffrey, you know I can‘t do this.“

The man doesn’t even try to hide his pity like he usually does.

„I know it‘s a hard task, especially for you. But Chen and Miller called in sick today, and my only other option is Reed.“

 

I cringe at the thought of Gavin talking to small humans. He‘s a dick, sure. That obviously doesn’t make him a pedophile or a source of general danger, again: sure. But still. Gavin with kids sparks an oddly specific picture of spaghetti with jam in my head. Disgusting. Unnatural, something that shouldn’t even exist in nightmares.

„Grade?“, I sigh a tad too loud, but it‘s my only way to express my dissatisfaction.

„First and second.“

„Fucking Christ, Jeffrey. This is getting worse by the second.“

 

We share a few silent moments loaded with anxiety and frustration. He‘d accept a refusal, I know he would. But disappointing a group of innocent children who are super excited for their trip to a police precinct? I’d rather shove my own pain far down my mental suppression chambers and take those few hours of suffering.

„ _Shit_ , I‘ll do it. You owe me though.“

„I sure do. I knew I could count on you, Hank.“

 

He doesn’t need to dismiss me, it‘s not that I intended on staying any longer in this damn glass room that appears to get hotter and hotter with every second passing. I walk over to my desk. My thoughts are a mess, I‘m way too sober for this. _Damn._

 

I decide that I don‘t feel like staying here, so I grab my jacket and walk out of the building and to my car. It‘s pretty damn cold, even for your typical December.  What if I just don‘t show up tomorrow? What if I just stay home? Home with Sumo and my whiskey.

 

Don‘t be a dick, Hank. You agreed to do this. Get your dusty ass home and stay away from any alcohol. My trip home is filled with snow, cold and white, getting dirty as soon as hitting the ground. Isn’t it ironic? Pure and tainted at the same time. Shit, I should become a fucking philosopher or something, that‘s how deep I am. 

 

A bitter laugh escapes my mouth. The only thing you‘re capable of doing is fucking everything up, old man. Whatever you lost in life. It‘s all your own fault. Cole. Chelsea. Even...

 

No, he doesn‘t fucking matter. He was just a boyfriend. Relationships come and go. It doesn’t matter he was beyond perfect. His damn hair with that one strand always falling out, his damn soft brown eyes comforting like a warm summer rain. His damn flawless pale skin covered in freckles and moles. His damn pretty mouth with lips more sensual than a tune of Jazz. His _damn_ toned body pressed against mine, leading me to the bedroom to fu-...

 

_Fuck._

 

It‘s been 10 fucking years and as much as I don’t want to admit it, I’m still not over him. But I did what I had to do. For him. Committing to someone who‘s that much older than you just isn’t right. He still had - _has_ \- his whole life in front of him. He probably found a loving wife who matches his own beauty, has like five well-behaved children and a house somewhere in this country where he’d never have to cross paths with me ever again. Maybe he was hurt all these years ago. But it was for the better, and I‘m sure he appreciates my decision now. If he even thinks of me anymore, that is. I don‘t know why he should, I just like the thought he does remember me as the boyfriend who saved his future. What a picture perfect hero I am.

 

I arrive at my house, staring at the front door for a couple of seconds before unlocking it.

„Hey buddy“, I greet the pile of fluff awaiting my return.

He replies with a warm bark, being a dog of few words. I close the door behind me, taking off my jacket and dropping it to the floor. Why bother hanging it up when I’m going to put it back on in the morning at this exact spot anyway. I’m too cold to change right now, waiting to warm up a bit seems like the better alternative, so I walk straight to the kitchen, my eyes avoiding the mess on the table.       

“You’re not my friend today”, I murmur to the whiskey bottle staring at me with seductive eyes, “I gotta function tomorrow.”

I grab some leftovers from the table. Who knows how old the stuff is, I most definitely don’t, and it’s not that I really care. Maybe I’ll die of food poisoning or something. Highly unlikely but a man can hope, can’t he? Sumo follows me as I sit down on the couch, letting my eyes wander around the room. When was the last time I cleaned this place? Was it last week? Or last year? It doesn’t matter anyway. And it’s not about the actual dirt all around the house either, it’s more the emotional dirt I’m unwilling _\- or unable?_ \- to clean up.

 

The food doesn’t taste too bad. It tastes exactly like you’d expect cold leftovers to taste. But at least it’s _predictable_. Reliable info I’m able to recall from my brain. Losing your mind is a lot harder when there’s stuff pulling you back into reality all the time. Work’s the same. All the hate, murder, blood. It’s the closest thing to hell on earth, sure, but it’s real. It all reminds me that this life is not just pure imagination.

 

_I really fucking wish it was though._

 

The box is empty rather quickly. Like anyone expects some fat ass like me to eat like I’m enjoying it.

It’s for the sake of preservation, nothing more to it. I used to love food, especially when _he_ prepared it. Fuck, that bastard was perfect in every single way. Damn beautiful idiot. I wonder if he still looks the same. Does he cut his hair differently now? Is he dying it? He always talked about wanting to go blonde at least for once. He never did because I said I wasn’t into it. It was only _my_ opinion, but he thought so highly of it that he never mentioned it again. Just to stay the way that _I_ liked him. Thinking back I don’t even understand what was going through my head. Putting my own preferences over his wishes? What a terrible and ungrateful boyfriend I was. Goes to show that I really did him a favor by breaking up.

 

Sumo nudges my knee with his nose, whining impatiently.

“Yeah yeah, I’ll take you for a walk.”

Good thing I didn’t change earlier. While I’d definitely prefer staying inside, Sumo’s the only thing that matters to me. No way I’m treating him poorly. We walk out the door after I throw on my jacket again. The snow is still falling. Unbothered by the cruelty of this world.

 

~

 

Walking into the office the next morning feels surreal, and not just because I’m on time for once. I didn’t die of food poisoning or on my way here. How unfortunate. Everything feels wrong, my desk is too shiny, my chair is too soft, even my pens changed positions over night. Too many differences to be coincidental, right? Or is my mind playing tricks on me? It’s 9 am, too early. Two more hours until I’m going to wish I would’ve declined Fowler’s request. What even was I thinking?

„Anderson!“, a voice is yelling from the other side of the room.

 

_Gavin fucking Reed._

 

„So I heard you saved me from a group of children!“

He walks over to my desk, leaning against it and nervously drumming on its surface with his fingers.

„You caught me“, I wave him off ironically, „Saving you is my only purpose in life.“

„Isn’t that just _so_ nice of you“, he smirks my way and pokes me with one of my pens.

„Fuck off, asshole.“

 

He stops smiling, returning to a more serious expression. 

“Sure you can handle?”, he asks, and if I didn’t know him I could’ve been fooled by the concerned tone in his voice.

“Correct me if I’m wrong. But are you _worried_ about me?”, I tease him.

Please let him yell at me. Or just grunt in disagreement. I need some normalcy right now, and Gavin is supposed to be the last person to get all soft with me all of a sudden. _Please._

“ _No?”_ , he indeed snaps immediately, “Fuck you.”

 

He turns on his heel and heads back to his own desk. Never thought I’d even think something like this, _but thank God Reed’s around._ The next 95 minutes pass agonizingly slow, but once the chatter of a trillion voices gets closer I feel my whole body turn into the definition of tension. If you’d look the word up in a dictionary you would find a picture of me covering a whole page. I watch the small humans walk through the door... Calm, Hank, _calm_. Bright smiles and a worryingly high amount of huge eyes roaming around the room, not staying focused on anything for more than 2 seconds. Except for one pair of eyes. Piercing gray crystals looking straight at me and not blinking once as far as I notice.

„Nines! Stop staring!“, a woman with long blonde hair talks to that exact child now, „You know it‘s not nice.“

What kind of fucking name is _Nines_? And why does he look so familiar?

„I‘m sorry, I promise it won‘t happen again“, Nines promises with a smile on his face.

He doesn’t sound like a kid at all. Words too clear, pronunciation too correct, expression too forced to be sincere.

This kid is definitely not sorry. 

 

„Lieutenant Anderson!“

The blonde woman walks up to me and extends her hand. I grab it gently to shake it.

„You must be Sarah“, I only guess her name.

„Clara“, she corrects me with a shy smile.

„Oh yeah, I‘m sorry. Not very good with names.“

I wonder. Does my apology sound as fake as the one Nines gave her just seconds ago? And why do I feel like he did a better job at lying than I did?

„It‘s alright, Lieutenant. Are you ready to meet my group?“

 

_No._

 

„Of course.“

We walk over to the beans on legs. At least that‘s what they look like with all their thick jackets and scarfs. Tiny hands hidden in gloves.

I need a damn drink.

„Kids, say hello to Lieutenant Anderson, he is going to show you around today!“

The kids all greet me happily. Innocent and sweet, standing in stark contrast to the cruel reality waiting out there.

„We‘re still waiting for one of the parents. He‘s coming along but he‘s late.“

„Should we wait?“, I ask her politely even though I couldn’t care less, „we could make some hot chocolate for the kids until he arrives.“

The more adults accompany us the better. Fewer headaches for me.

„Who wants hot chocolate?“, Clara offers her group of little terrors and earns a storm of loud responses.

Who says no to hot chocolate anyway? I know it‘s her job to be that way, but damn stop being annoying and just give them some and done. I lead them to the break room with our new machine for all kinds of drinks. I present it to the kids who thankfully take in the instructions and press the buttons themselves. I watch them mindlessly from a safe distance as I feel a small tug at my shirt.

 

„Hank.“

It‘s that Nines kid. And before I can even wonder how the fuck he knows my first name he‘s pulled away.

„I apologize, Lieutenant“, it‘s Clara, „Nines doesn’t always understand the concept of boundaries.“

„I do. I just wanted to talk to him“, Nines declares and escapes her loose grip.

„Alright, let‘s talk then.“

I nod at Clara to signal my consent. I‘m intrigued. What does this small human want? He waits until Clara walks back over to the others to keep an eye on them in case someone‘s about to drop their cup.

„I know you. You’re Hank Anderson.“

„And who are you?“

„I‘m Nines.“

„No last name?“, I try to keep the convo going. Kids are easy enough, right? Talk about some crayons or some other dumb shit and they‘re good.

„Of course I have a last name, _silly_. But Daddy said I shouldn’t tell it to people.”

 

The way he said it, _silly_ , sends a shiver down my spine. What is wrong with this child? He looks familiar, he sounds familiar, but I can‘t think for the sake of it where I could know him from. I can‘t remember. But somehow I‘m glad he‘s here. Thinking about him keeps my head occupied. It‘s easier to suppress the pain and the memories when this child is the exact opposite of Cole...

 

„Nines! What did I tell you about confusing people?“

“Daddy!”, Nines smiles broadly and starts running, losing interest in me immediately.

 _This voice..._ It can’t be... I slowly turn around, scared to have my suspicion confirmed.

„Hank?“

 

Those eyes. A deep brown. Warm and calm and comforting. Beautiful just like the first time they met mine. And even more beautiful than the last time I saw them all these years ago, overflowing with tears when I announced I was leaving him.

 

_He’s breathtaking._

 

„Connor.“


	2. Bad At Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did mention it in the tags, but I'll say it again now. Gavin will not develope any kind of romantic/sexual feelings for Nines in this story. I swear it's not going there at all. But I will say that if you find it weird when a grown man and a small child do get rather close, you might not want to continue reading this story. Because Gavin and Nines will have their own kind of dynamic going on.
> 
> With that being said, I hope you enjoy this chapter! :3

_Ho-ly shit._

 

A few moments of tensed silence pass until Nines decides to break it.

“Daddy, I found Hank!”

Connor directs his eyes away from me and looks at Nines instead, smiles at him and runs a hand through his hair.

“Good job. Maybe you should stay here and help the officers solve their cases.”

“You’re being silly”, Nines pouts.

 

Connor then turns his gaze back to me.

“You look great”, I only manage.

 _Nice to see you, Connor. It’s been a while. You have a son now congrats._ Out of all the things I could’ve said I chose something about his appearance. Great. Just great.

“So do you, Hank”, he replies with a shy grin.

My heart...

“Connor! There you are!”, he’s then addressed by Nines’ teacher. What was her name again?

“Clara”, Connor reminds me with a wink before she reaches us.

He remembers that I have the brain capacity of a fish, huh.

 

„I got stuck in traffic, I‘m very sorry“, he then apologizes, and unlike Nines and I he sounds sincere.

„The kids are busy anyway so it doesn’t matter“, Clara explains and points at her group.

They‘re still drinking hot chocolate.

„Are you not feeling well, Lieutenant?”, she suddenly asks, “You‘re really pale all of a sudden!“

Connor looks at me with huge eyes.

„Lieutenant? You‘ve been promoted then“, he concludes. _No shit, Sherlock._

„Yeah, quite a while ago actually. It’s been like nine years”, I explain, trying not to sound annoyed.

 

Of course he would ask, there’s no way he could’ve known. Clara has a puzzled expression on her face.

„You two know each other?“

„Yeah, we uh, we‘ve been... umm... yeah we know each other I guess.“

Fantastic.

„We should start, Clara. I don’t want to cause you any trouble with the parents back at school when we don’t drop their kids off on time”, Connor suggests and already starts walking over to the other children.

“Let’s go, Hank!”, Nines commands while taking my hand, leading me in the same direction his dad went.

“Nines, you’re really testing Lieutenant Anderson’s patience here.”

 

Why the fuck does she seem so mad? I know it’s not any of my business but I really don’t like the way she constantly scolds this child. Doesn’t she notice how loud and obnoxious the rest of her group is? Compared to them Nines is more than bearable. Maybe I should tell Connor about it when we’re alone.

 

 _Alone with Connor._ Never thought that would happen again but here we are.

“It’s alright, Clara”, I assure her my still existing consent, “Nothing wrong with his behavior.”

“Really?”, it’s not Clara to answer but Nines himself.

“Yeah, you’re lovely. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, okay?”

He nods, a huge toothy grin on his lips. It feels right and painfully wrong at the same time, being so close to a child that must be around the same age Cole was when he... well... _shit_. Hand in hand we follow after Connor who already started talking to the other kids. By the way they’re jumping him they seem to like him a lot.

“Connor is very popular”, Clara states the obvious.

I only hum in response. I don’t feel like talking to her anymore. It’s probably not the most mature attitude to have, but how she treats an innocent child just rubs me the wrong way.

 

Nines pulls on my shirt again.

“Hank?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you still like my dad?”

I look down to meet his eyes. They are so focused and full of confidence.

“I never disliked him, kid”, I explain, trying to sounds as convincing as possible.

“But you broke up with him, didn’t you?”, he stays persistent.

“Oh, you two used to be a couple?”, Clara then joins the conversation uninvited.

As if I need any more nosy people in my life.

“Yeah. A long time ago.”

 

Clara gives me that look. I know that look.

“That’s... interesting”, she forces herself to smile. She probably did some calculations in her small blonde head, guessing my age now and my age ten years ago and compared it to Connor’s. _Pervert_ , she thinks, _taking advantage of a way younger man’s inexperience._

“Not really”, I reply while removing Nines and myself from her presence and joining the rest of her group.

“You don’t like her”, Nines doesn’t ask, he states, “But I think she doesn’t like us either, does she?”

“I think she has a problem with _me_ now”, I don’t want to talk shit about her, she’s his teacher after all.

“She’s always nice to the other kids. I’m the only one she dislikes.”

How obvious do you have to be for a small child to notice you don’t like him? Or maybe it’s just Nines who’s too smart for his age.

“I think she likes Daddy, though.”

 

It’s sad, really. Must be hard to be the difficult child to a highly likeable parent.

“Random people don’t matter, Nines”, I explain to him, “Only the opinions of people you like matter.”

“Makes sense”, he agrees and smiles at me, showing off his tiny teeth again. _Ugh._

He then lets go of my shirt and finally makes himself a chocolate. Clara glares at him, apparently annoyed that she now has to wait for him to finish his drink. Fucking hate her. Nines almost chokes down the whole cup in one go after blowing into it furiously. His face is covered in countless sprinkles of the brown liquid. Connor asks the other children to step aside so he can reach Nines, and then pulls a pack of tissues out of his coat to clean Nines’ face with one of them.

“Wasn’t it too hot to drink yet?”, he asks while removing the last drops.

“I didn’t want to slow everyone down so I drank it _super_ fast!”

 

A low sigh builds up somewhere deep in my throat. This day needs to end real quick so I can go home and drink away all this bullshit. Much to my liking we start the tour, and once it’s begun it’s over fairly soon. There isn’t much to see here after all. One of the children begs to talk to some of the officers and detectives, and to be honest I like the idea. Less work for me.

 

„Children, you all pick someone to talk to, alright?“

One look around the precinct confirms my thoughts. Everyone has an open expression, except for that one asshole locking his eyes on the screen acting like the total douchebag he is. And exactly that asshole makes accidental eye contact with Nines who immediately sees that as an invitation. He walks straight to his desk and takes a seat.

„Detective Reed“, I hear him read out loud from the name sign we all were forced to put on our desks for the day, „What‘s your first name?“

„Gavin”, Detective Asshole answers.

„Can I call you that?“, he makes it sound like a request for permission, but somehow I believe he’s going to call him Gavin anyway.

There’s a weird moment between the two. Dead silence. Just two pairs of gray eyes clashing in a silent battle.

„Sure, kiddo”, Gavin then agrees with a grin. It’s not an evil grin either. Just a regular one.

 

They start having a legitimate conversation and really seem to enjoy each other. Nines really knows how to wrap someone around his finger. Just like his dad. I feel someone getting closer, and as soon as the hand rests against my arm I know who it belongs to.

“Hey”, he says and has that beautiful smile on.

Jesus, his fucking cute ass dimples... _Please kill me now._

“Hi”, I respond while trying not to tense up too much.

I should ask him something right? He always liked when I asked questions.

“So, uh... you have a son?”

„Yes.“

Wow. That much for _‘he likes it when I ask questions’_.

„I knew he looked familiar.“

 

We both look over to Nines and Gavin who are still very deep into their conversation. Two smartasses, how wonderful.

„He‘s very....“, I begin to voice my thoughts. What _is_ he, exactly?

Connor side-eyes me and looks extremely uncomfortable.

„Weird? Annoying? Pushy?“, he offers a few adjectives. _The fuck?_

„Smart“, I end my sentence.

„Oh“, Connor only manages, obviously taken aback by my choice of words.

He must be used to people talking his kid down, it takes all my strength to not let my anger show. Fucking humans judging everything and everyone that’s _different_.

„He took after his mother”, he says, smiling a barely visible smile.

„You trying to say you‘re stupid?“

„No. Just no match for her intelligence.“

 

He turns slightly so he can look at me without craning his neck.

“Do you have children?” _Ouch_.

“Um... no”, I answer.

Why does it feel so wrong to say no? I’ve never had any issues with noes. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m still hurting. Maybe it’s the fact that it’s neither the truth nor a lie. Who knows.

“Oh.”

Come on Hank. You’ve been through interrogations that were way worse. Pull yourself together and don’t make this awkward. I mean, it is awkward already but there’s no need to raise the level of it.

“Still haven’t changed your mind about that, have you?”, he takes a guess.

It’s not far from the truth. I never thought about having children. Cole just... happened. He was one of the greatest gifts in my whole life, sure. But I didn’t plan on having him. If I knew how much pain it was going to cause me I would’ve made sure things developed differently.

“I’m too old to change my mind.”

 

What a stupid answer. It’s the only one I can offer though.

“You’re not old”, he disagrees. He always disagrees. Why can’t he just accept my viewpoint for once?

“Of course _you_ wouldn’t think I’m old.”

Kinky bastard.

“Well, I guess some things never change.”

The grin he tries to hide from me really messes with my self-control. I should just grab him and bend him over this table and fuck him with everyone watching. Would he let me? Would he enjoy it? _Fuck_ , I really should do it. That would only confirm me being a pervert, but who cares at this point. I have nothing to lose. I mean I would scare these children for life. And my co-workers. Clara too _(but fuck her, honestly)._ Also he’s mentioned Nines’ mother already, and that probably makes him a married man... Yeah, maybe I _shouldn’t_ do it.

 

I need distraction. And a drink. But distraction will have to do it for now. I check up on Gavin and Nines who apparently have started to... craft paper airplanes? Where the fuck are the hidden cameras, this all can’t be real. Gavin being nice? Connor still being the definition of beauty? Connor having a child? Am I in fact dead and suffering in purgatory now?

“Detective Reed seems to be very kind”, Connor then changes the topic. He must’ve been watching them as well.

“You want me to be honest?”, I ask and wait until he confirms with a nod, “He’s the biggest asshole I know. I’ve never seen him like this.”

“I was thinking the same thing about Nines actually. He never gets along with people.”

“He seems to get along with Gavin, that’s for sure.”

As if they are trying to prove my point they start laughing, and Nines is obviously very satisfied to be the reason Gavin isn’t being grumpy.

 

“Alright kids!”, suddenly Clara is yelling, “You should all say goodbye now, it’s time to leave!”

We watch as the kids slowly get up from their seats and walk over to Clara, gathering around her. Connor leaves my side when he notices that Nines isn’t moving even the slightest bit.

“Did you hear that it’s time to leave?”, he patiently asks Nines once he has reached Reed’s desk.

Two pairs of gray eyes stare at him disapprovingly.

“I did. But I think I’m going to stay with Gavy.”

... _Gavy?_

“Detective Reed is a busy man, you should respect him enough to let him work in peace.”

“ _Actually_ ”, Nines counters, “Gavy told me that he has no plans for today. So I believe it’s fine if I stay here.”

I can’t suppress the smirk that fights its way onto my face. Like father, like son. Gavin doesn’t say anything, he just smiles at the young boy still sitting next to him, and Nines is fast at reciprocating the smile.

“ _Nines_.”

 

Connor holds out a hand, at which Nines stares for a few moments before reaching out and grabbing it, allowing his dad to help him get up.

“I don’t want to argue with you, okay? Please say goodbye to Detective Reed.”

The sad look on Nines’ face is truly heartbreaking. How anyone could _want_ to spend time with Gavin is beyond me, but it’s not my job to judge here.

“Good bye Gavy. Thanks for spending your time with me!”

Gavin smiles widely, I’m kind of scared his mouth might tear since he never smiles ever.

“Bye, Nines.”

“I’ll visit you soon, alright?”, Nines once again pretends to ask, when in reality he only announces what he is going to do anyway.

“Yeah, I’d like that”, Gavin agrees and winks at him. Umm... what the hell.

 

Nines chuckles and turns around, facing Connor now.

“We can go!”, he says while already making his way over to Clara and the group.

“Did you all enjoy being here?”, I hear Clara ask, the kids give her a loud “yes!” as a response.

“You should all say goodbye to Lieutenant Anderson”, she then adds, sounding rather forced than happy.

“Goodbye Lieutenant Anderson!”, the group repeats after her, struggling with the word ‘lieutenant’.

She doesn’t look at me when she leads everyone to the exit. Not that I care. Whatever. I jump a bit as someone gently touches my arm. Big brown eyes stare right into my soul. Jesus...

 

„It was nice seeing you again”, he says, sounding so sincere it almost hurts.

„Yeah I thought so too. Be careful on your way home. The streets are almost all frozen over.”

So this is it now, huh?

„Daddy”, a voice from below interrupts us, “Are you not going to exchange numbers?“

Connor squeezes his hand, not really hard but I see it nonetheless.

„Nines, you‘re doing it again. Being irritating. Don‘t make Hank uncomfortable.”

 

Come on Hank, fucking man up for once in your life. Don‘t let him go. Maybe... You can still be friends now that he has his own family?

„No, uh... I‘d like that actually. The exchanging numbers part I mean. If you don‘t wanna it‘s fine but I could consider meeting up again.“

 _I could consider meeting up again_. Aren’t you just one stupid motherfucker.

„Yeah, sure. Why not“, Connor still smiles despite my clumsy choice of words and pulls his phone from his coat.

He types down my number as I tell it and saves it, probably. Will he ever use it? What even would my contact name be?

 

 _Hank_ with some weird emoji next to it?

Just _Hank_?

_Hank Anderson?_

_Stupid ass ex?_

_Stupid ass ex 5?_

_Delete later?_

_Don‘t pick up?_

_Pathetic old dude?_

_Gross horny grandpa?_

 

„I just called you, so you have mine now too”, he then announces and puts his phone away.

So at least he wasn’t pretending. I guess. I’ll know for sure when I check my phone.

„Thanks“, I only reply, causing another awkward silence. Why am I like this?

„You‘re both so weird“, mini Connor comments with a sour look on his face. This kid...

„ _Nines_.“

„Sorry, Daddy.“

The two say their goodbyes and leave the precinct, following the rest of Nines’ classmates. Connor turns around to smile at me, and for the first time in God knows how long it doesn’t feel too terrible that I even woke up this morning. With lightly trembling fingers I open the drawer I put my phone in to check for a missed call from an unknown number. And against all odds a notification really just sits there in the middle of my screen. I unlock the phone and hurry up to save the number, scared it might disappear if I take too long. Irrational, _completely_ irrational. But that’s been my reality for the last couple years.

 

I save him as ‘Connor’. Just ‘Connor’.

 

And then I add a small heart next to it.


	3. First Unsure Steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really short and kind of pointless but I wanted to update this since it’s been ages. I’m sorry .__.

It’s been two weeks. Two fucking long ass weeks since I met Connor and Nines. Haven’t heard from them since, probably cause Connor never intended to use my number anyway.

Was is stupid of me to even hope that he wanted to see me again? Maybe.

Was is stupid of me to almost immediately regain all my love for him that I had only pushed aside so it wouldn't kill me? Probably.

Is it stupid of me to still love this goof? Most definitely.

 

If only I was stronger. If only I wasn't such an idiot. I could've told him that I don't want to see him again, told him that I don't care about him or his wife or his son. All I can do now is hope that he sticks with not texting or calling me. Of course he didn't want to act like an asshole around Nines. That poor kid tried to make us talk again, and it obviously would’ve been fucked up to tell him ‘oh no Nines, Hank is way too old now. He was okay-looking back then, but now he looks so scruffy.’

 

Yeah. It’s definitely better like this. Just me, Sumo and my alcohol.

 

When I enter the precinct I hear... _something_. I can't quite put my finger on it, but something is off. It sounds familiar somehow. Damn, am I hearing things? Did I already reach that point?

“Oh come on”, a voice echoes through our office, “You can’t put extra sugar in your cocoa!”

And then it hits me. _Gavin_. The sound that irritated me was Gavin’s laugh. But what’s so funny? And who would put extra sugar in those drinks that our machine makes when that stuff is already drowning in sugar?

“Hank, you’re here!”, I then discover the maniac who needs more sweetness. _Nines._

Of course. Of course he would show up again. I should’ve known the second when I heard Gavin laugh that obviously it must have been because of the one thing that I have ever see make him laugh.

 

The small human approaches me, capturing me in a tight hug.

“Hey, Nines”, I greet him.

He looks up to me with those intense gray eyes. Then they wander around, as if he’s looking for something. _Or someone_.

“Nines, do you know that you’re supposed to drink your hot chocolate while it’s still hot?”, Gavin asks Nines from all across the precinct. I really like him better when he shuts the fuck up.

“Yeah, that’s why it’s called _hot_ chocolate, silly”, Nines answers loudly and rolls his eyes, turning his attention back to me, “Sometimes I think Gavy is a little bit stupid.”

I can't help but laugh out loud. This kid. He shifts his look away from me, fixating a point behind me and smiling. And before I can even construct a flight route in my head I feel a hand resting on my arm.

 

I turn around, only to be met by soft brown orbs and an even softer smile.

“Hi.”

„Hi“, I respond. Wow, it’s already back to being awkward again.

“I’ll leave you two alone now!”, Nines excuses himself and hurries back to the break room.

The silence between us is tense enough to cut through it. At least it feels like it is.  
„I‘m sorry I didn't text you”, it is Connor to speak first, “I’ve had some issues at work and with Nines’ school.”

“It’s cool. So, uh... Do you have any problems to report?“  
Connor looks at me and says nothing.   
„I mean, like... Did someone break something? A robbery? An accident? Or-”

“Hank, what are you talking about? I didn't come here to report a problem.”

“And why _did_ you come then?”   
„You should be smart enough to figure that out, Lieutenant“, he then smiles and winks at me.

 

He couldn't have come here only to see me, right? But if he doesn't have any problems that need the police‘s help...   
„You came here for me?“   
„Obviously, Hank.“   
He steps closer just a little bit.   
„Do you want to grab some food? I didn't have lunch yet.”

 _Lunch._ I don't even know when I last had a real lunch. By the time I wake up and start my days my lunch is replaced by breakfast. And not light breakfast either. Damn I’m hungry.

„Yeah, sure”, I agree, “Was about to leave anyway.“ As if I didn't just arrive 10 minutes ago.  
“Great!”

 

Connor grins even wider now, it’s creepy somehow how almost nothing has changed. He looks older, more mature, but he still has that youthful face. Maybe it’s his mental energy or something, who knows.  
We both look over to Gavin’s desk where Detective Asshole and his new best friend have settled down. They’re having another conversation, until Nines holds his cup towards Gavin. The older one leans down slightly and blows into it. Is he trying to cool it down?

“It’s not like I’m always telling him that he’s old enough to do it himself...”, Connor mumbles and stares at Gavin in disbelief.

“Well, you always liked getting spoiled”, I tease him with a light smirk, “of course he’s gonna inherit that from you, _princess_.”

  
Connor goes silent, just gives me that _look_. How could I ever forget about that look. It always meant one of two things: Drama or a really good fuck. But I doubt he’s about to do any of those two options, so what does it mean? I won't ask and he won't tell. Instead he moves over to Nines.

“We’re getting food”, he announces.

“Can you get me noodles?”, Nines requests, “And can you get some for Gavy too?”

“Nines, you’re coming with me.”

“No.”

 

Nines scoots closer to Gavin, grabbing the man by his jacket.

“Detective Reed is not your babysitter, Nines.”

“But he is my _friend_ , Daddy!”

I actually liked the word ‘daddy’ once. But that was before everything went downhill.

“You know how much I hate arguing in public. You really shouldn’t…!”

I interrupt Connor’s scene by placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I bet Gavin doesn't mind watching him, right Reed?”

Gavin rolls his eyes. Dramatic ass bitch.

“I have to leave at 4. You two can do whatever until then.”

“Thanks and bye”, I reply and lead Connor away from them.

“Hey! I didn't agree on this!”, he complains half-heartedly.

He sounds way different when he’s really upset.

“Yeah, yeah, you can thank me later.”

 

We walk towards the exit, and Connor keeps on turning back around and murmuring something under his breath. He always hated when people made decisions for him but I also know that he appreciated some guidance when he wasn't too sure about something. And in this case he seemed unsure if he wanted to spend some time with me alone. Maybe I shouldn't have done this… But maybe this will help him see clear. Maybe he’ll see that there’s nothing left of the old me. The old me that loved life, enjoyed cooking, appreciated reading a good book. That me left when Cole died. _You aren't yourself at the moment_ , the psychologist I visited a few times had told me, _grief does that to humans._ But who says that this isn't the real me? Who says I didn't change into this old, bitter man?

 

Connor starts squealing once we reach my car.

“You still have him?!”, he asks with this loveable glow in his eyes.

He gently touches the body of my old run down ride, treating it like something precious. Oh lord, how is he so pure…

“He’s still running, so yeah”, I shrug and get into my seat, Connor follows after putting his hands on what seems every reachable inch of this damn chunk of metal and plastic. Once he’s seated he takes a deep breath, followed by many smaller sniffs. Welp, I knew he was gonna notice.

“Do you drink in here?”

“Uhh, not really. I spilled some though. Last week I think.”

Of course I wouldn't remember that I broke a whole bottle of booze in here. It was a tough night, really. A horrible case. A woman found dead in her apartment, killed by her psycho ex-boyfriend who she had tried to report a few times. But no one wanted to listen. And now it’s too late for her. We caught the guy, making sure he won’t harm anybody for a very long time. But did that poor girl have to die in order for anyone to take her serious?

 

The drive home was one I still don’t fully remember. I was at the park. Cole’s park. Buying the bottles of alcohol wasn't a decision I made consciously, I just remember having them with me when I sat down on one of the benches and started drinking. I didn't stay long, but it was long enough to empty every bottle except for one. That one ended up getting smashed against my dashboard and spilling its insides all over the place. There are probably plenty splinters left. If I knew I’d have someone sitting in here, possibly Nines even, I would’ve cleaned more thoroughly.

 

“Some? Smells more like a whole store in here”, Connor complains like the little princess he his.

“Oh yeah? You can walk if you wanna”, I offer an alternative.

“... Really, Hank?”

He gives me his best pout, and my withered heart can’t help but get all lovey-dovey with this idiot.

“You’re choice, cowboy.”

His eyes soften a bit. As if I just told him my whole story and now he _understands_.

“Calling someone ‘cowboy’ is pretty childish”, Connor doesn't react all too impressed by my usage of his old nickname.

“You _are_ -”

… Fucking wake up, Hank. This person sitting right next to you isn't a child. He isn't the same 23-year-old you met back then.

“Nevermind”, I hurry to correct myself, “Let’s not argue, how does that sound?”

“Good”, his response is hardly more than a growl.

Oh no, the princess is mad.

 

We discuss on where to eat. Since he apparently only moved here recently I give him some options of restaurants that I like. Used to like. Whatever. He chooses my absolute favorite, a place that‘s not too cheap nor too expensive. I haven't been here in ages, and I have to admit that I’m kind of excited. We arrive a few minutes later, and after we’ve entered the establishment we get seated almost immediately.

“It’s nice here”, Connor says after letting his eyes examine everything they can spot.

“Yeah, food’s pretty good as well.”

He takes one of the menus from the table and skips through most of the pages without giving them any attention.

“Let me guess”, I chuckle, “Salad?”

Connor grins, _and fuck me sideways_. Why is he so fucking pretty? It’s kinda unbearable, knowing I can’t have him, can’t take him home and make him mine.

“If they have any interesting ones, sure”, he confirms my guess.

 

He always had a thing for the most obscure salads. The ones you see on those hip social media sites, salads with fruit in them and all that weird stuff.

“There’s one I’d like to try”, he then announces, “It has lettuce, strawberries, passionfruit, avocado, walnuts and salmon.”

… Why?

“Well. You do you. I’ll go with a burger.”

Connor’s back to giving me judging looks, probably because I’m already grossly overweight and still continue to eat unhealthy shit.

“As much as I think the extra weight looks good on you, you should consider something more… balanced.”

“So you like fat guys now?”, I can’t believe what he just said.

The extra weight looks _good_ on me? A pretty damn disillusioned judgement from someone with such sharp eyes.

“I like _you_ , so…”

 

“Hi, are you ready to order?”

The man who led us to our table is back and has a small tablet in his hands.

“Yes, I’ll have number 57 and a glass of water. Oh, and can you please not add the dressing to the salad? I’d like that separately.”

“Of course”, the waiter agrees and types in Connor’s order, “And you, sir?”

I look at Connor. He seems to expect me to follow his suggestion.

“I’ll get number 16 with extra cheese. And a glass of white wine.”

“Sure, call me if there’s something else I can do for you.”

He walks off, and Connor doesn't look mad but utterly confused.

“Hank, it isn't even noon.”

“Can’t go wrong with a nice wine”, I wave him off.

“Do you have an alcohol problem?”

“Because I ordered a fucking wine to go with my burger?”

“No”, he doesn't let himself get irritated by my sudden snap, “Because your whole car smells like you cleaned it with 20 bottles of whatever and now you’re having a drink almost still in the morning.”

 

I decide not to answer that one. He’s right, but he doesn't have to _know_ he’s right. Why does he even care? It’s not like he needs me to stay alive. We aren't friends or partners, we aren't even lovers. He needs someone better, someone who’s stable and capable of giving him what he deserves. And he can easily get someone like that. He’s older now, sure, but 36 still isn't old. But me? I was 41 when I met him, that already was old. Now, with 53, I’m almost ancient.

 

But does he even need to find someone?

 

“Are you married?”, I demand to know.

He doesn't wear a ring, I noticed that the last time, but I know some married people who don't wear rings.

“ _If I’m married_? You’re trying to distract from the damn topic!”, he sees right through me.

“So, are you?”

“... I'm not”, he then answers. _Oh._

“Where’s Nines’ mother?”

“I’m not with her, that’s all you need to know.”

 

Huh, so there’s a part of his past he doesn't like talking about. We have that in common. How far would he go to avoid that topic though?

“How about this”, I start my proposal, “If you stop asking about my _alcohol problems_ as you call them, I will never mention Nines’ mother again.”

Connor stares at me, taken by surprise as it seems.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m okay with that”, he agrees, voice low and unsure.

 

He places his right hand on the table, palm facing upwards and looks at me as if he’s waiting for something.

“Um… What are you doing?”, I’m beyond confused.

“Do you not… want to hold my hand?”

The fast blinking of his eyes shows me just how anxious he is. But why would he even be? He’s the young gorgeous beauty and I’m… well, old and ugly and disgusting. I feel unworthy of taking his soft hand in my own calloused one.

And why for fuck’s sake would he want to hold _my_ hand?

“Why?”, I voice my confusion, still not wanting him to feel rejected.

Cause that’s not the fucking problem. I’ve always wanted him, and I want him now more than ever.

“And they promoted _you_ to lieutenant, yeah?”, Connor dares making fun of me, but he does it with such a charming smile I let him get away with it for once.

“I guess they did.”

 

I slide my own hand over to his, taking it in a loose grip. Connor tightens it.

It’s wonderful. Holding his hand, tiny in comparison to mine… How did I live without this for the past ten years? I feel the soft caress of his thumb on the back of my hand.

 

And for a moment, just for a short one, the mess in my head comes to a halt.

**Author's Note:**

> ♡〜٩(^▿^)۶〜♡


End file.
